


Hello, Operator

by croftian (verily_I_write)



Series: Dork Husbands [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dork Husbands, M/M, Nork Weekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2505245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verily_I_write/pseuds/croftian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>North is on the phone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello, Operator

North is on the phone.

North is on the phone and he has his fingers slicked up and knuckles-deep inside of York who, from where he is laid out across the blond's lap on their sofa, is biting into the flesh beneath his thumb to stem the tide of gentle moans attempting to flow from his mouth. The single living room window is open, and North is chattering animatedly with his sister on the phone, and as a finger expertly strokes his prostate, York has never wanted so badly to say 'fuck it' to being silent and shove back on his husband's fingers with a hearty moan. The withdrawal of said fingers and a smart slap to his ass is all he needs to know that North is following his train of thought - and forbidding it with a soft grin that York doesn't see, but hears in his voice.

"Yeah, we'll be there, sis. Wouldn't miss Thanksgiving at home for the world."

Slowly, oh so teasingly slow, the blond's long, agile fingers sink back into York's ass. One, two, and then a third added in quick succession, none too gently building an steady pace that York is almost certain can be heard over the phone, the lubricant on North's fingers making his movements smooth but audible in a series of squelches.

 

"Theta? Yeah, 'course he's going to be there, South. It's my week with him, so we have him for the holiday too. You can rely on him being there to make himself sick from eating too much of your sweet potato casserole.

Hmm? Alright, I'll hold."

This time, when North pulls his fingers out, a small huff escapes York. He doesn't have time to protest the action, feeling one of his husband's hands sneaking under his stomach, gently patting the skin there. A gentle, "Up", is all the encouragement the brunet needs to push himself up until he's on all fours over North's lap. His attempt to reach down and stroke his erect cock is thwarted when his husand slaps away the hand travelling towards his thighs.

In exchange, North leans forward and places a soft kiss to York's hip, loosely wrapping his own hand around the man's cock. Quickly whispers, "Fuck me," before he's back to chattering with his sister about turkeys and no, a crossbow is not an appropriate seasonal decoration, and York is thrusting into the fist presented to him.

His pacing is awkward at first, stilted and uneven as he attempts to simultaneously not fall off the sofa and find a rhythm that will get him off, and quickly. The fist around him is obnoxiously loose, however, teasing him more than relieving the ache in his gut and his prick, and without meaning to a frustrated snarl escapes the brunet.

Cradling the phone against his shoulder, North reaches around with his newly freed hand to pinch York's ass in recrimination, all the while reassuring his sister on the phone, "Hm? Oh, that's just York putting together an Ikea shelf.

Yeah, I told him to just hire one of the furnishers to do it, but you know how he is. Impatient." The last word is followed by a thumb pressing against his entrace, pushing into the slicked up orifice just a bit, enough to tease the frustrated man in his lap. The blond grins cheekily as York thows a scowl over his shoulder. Revenge is an inevitability, oviously. For now, though, the brunet returns to his thrusting, experimenting first with deep and then shallow bucks. His knees are sinking into the sofa cushions, skin rubbing against the textured fabric, tingling with the promise of chafing sores. York pays little regard to any of it, feeling a hot, liquid sensation beginning to churn in his gut. "Yes, yes...please, North..."

Abruptly, the hand on York's cock is gone, lifted to press the index finger to North's lips in a silencing gesture. The blond looks far from irritated, however, eyes bright with mirth as he answers a question from South, "No, no, it's fine. What was it you wanted us to bring again?"

Mercifully, North's hand is back on York's prick, tighter this time, less teasing and more purposeful. Still cradling the phone on his shoulder, the blond pushes two fingers from his other hand deep into York, the lube gone slightly cold and tacky, but none the less allowing the appendages to slide right on in until, with some twitching and exploratio, they rub briefly across York's prostate. The resulting keen is muffled by the flesh of the brunet's wrist, which he has shoved fast into his mouth, teeth biting down with a decent amount of force. The hand on his prick tightens some more, the pace of it's jerking speeding up as North's phone conversation appears to be drawing to a close.

"Yeah, I'll get the kiddo to give you a call when he gets back. Said something about a 'project' you two are doing? Mm. Yeah, no, there better not be explosives involved. South. Don't you even - FINE. It better not be like the last 'surprise' you planned. I don't think Gramps ever forgave you for spray painting his Model T.

No, the naked lady was not classy, South. Your definition of 'classy' is questionable at best."

By this point, the hand on York's cock is moving at a frenetic pace, counterpoint to the steady, purposeful strokes of the fingers against his prostate. North's hand is slick on his husband's arousal, moistened with the pre-ejaculate that appears to be growing in quantity the longer he strokes.

It is at this point, wavering on the precipice of an epic, toe-curling orgasm, that North removes his fingers from inside York, and lifts the phone from his shoulder, holding it in York's direction.

"Say goodbye to South now, York."

The grip on his cock tightens, and with a shout - unrestrained, loud, his mouth having parted ways with the reddened skin of his wrist moments before - York's orgasm sweeps though him. His release falls mostly on the sofa cushions (that won't be fun to wash out), though a small spattering lands on North's jeans, seeping into the material. The hand on his prick milks him for all that he's able to give, until he's too sensitive for touch, and his legs and arms give out.

Laying across his husband's lap once more, York is all too aware of the cackling laughter that can be heard through the phone. North is laughing too, in that soft, incredulous way of his that leaves York feeling simultaneously pleasantly warm, and yet also vindictive.

"You little bastards. You had that planned out, didn't you?"

North's laughter is bright and unrepentant as he presses 'end' on the phone, then leans over to press a lingering kiss to the back of York's sweaty neck. In this position, the larger man's hips twist just enough that York can feel his husband's arousal pressing against his bare hip.

"Well, revenge is always an option, York. Consider me at your mercy."

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so this is actually my first fanfic for RvB. It's been a while since I've done any writing as well, and there was no editing since I'm lazy as dicks, but I hope this turned out alright.
> 
> Happy Nork Weekend!


End file.
